Hands of Glory
by AnonymousBystander
Summary: Ever wondered what it felt like to use a pair of Demon infested gauntlets? Better yet, ever wondered what it felt like to be USED as a pair of Demon infested gauntlets? One of Dantes most trusted weapons... can it be trusted?
1. Pandoras Box

I don't own em I'm just borrowin em!

Oh yes, don't be alarmed. The whole storey isn't written in 2nd person... just this chapter.

* * *

Candles lined the walls. Shadows flickered and danced as they switched places with each other in the dusty rooms. Aged brick was lined with tattered flags that waved eerily in the heat made by the candles as if in some unfelt breeze.

As you moved through the courtyard, your eyes almost missed the bloodstains on the floor, the shards of a broken sword, the empty casings. Your footsteps, as light and as slow as they were, woke something. Something hidden. Something trapped in the prison of the garden. Something lost.

Dinted, lonely, yet gleaming, a pair of gauntlets lay on the platform. Each one bearing scars, memories of battles won, and this battle...lost.

At the stirring of debris, the gauntlets flared. A warning. That of a Hermit's warnings to children that come too close. Irritated, yet sad.

_Who are you? _

You took in the surroundings. Nobody was present there besides you...and the gauntlets. remaining silent, you stepped closer to the lonely pair. They were fire-rimmed, silver, not rusted.

Just covered in blood.

_What are you? _

You have sometimes wondered that yourself. Different. Not belonging. Like the magnificent metallic gloves that were surrounded by so much, so faded.

Cautious, senses awake for ambush, you moved closer. The twin silver gleams sparked in irritation at being woken.

_Let me live eternity in peace!_

Suspicious, yet not affected by the gauntlet's ramblings, you touched a silver glove, drawing back your hand immediately.

They were warm! You picked one up in a hand, yet to decide whether the gauntlets were dangerous or simply bluffing their irritation. Suddenly the sword on your back spat sparks of blue lightning across the floor.

A gasp.

_Alastor_? _Who are you?_

Ever silent, you ran a check over the gloves with your power, picking up the twin. They shivered in your hands...giggling?

My turn, mysterious stranger.

Humor in the voice. A female? The gauntlets were female?

Without warning, a wave of fire leapt from the gauntlets, pressing at your veins. Searching. Examining. Analysing. Through your arms, to your chest, slowly pulsing with every heartbeat.

_Interesting...but..._

The fire dug itself deeper and you found yourself on the floor. Ripping off the gauntlets, you hoped to leave the fiery invader in its silver prison, but it had already leaked into your own essence.

What was it doing?

"_A halfblood?_" A voice, a woman's voice, drifted through your thoughts. "_How...unusual._"

_**Get out.**_

Two words said to the invading spirit and it instantly started seeping away.

"_Well, there was no need to be rude..._"

You gave one last steely look at the gauntlets and turned your back, intending to leave them in the derelict courtyard.

_WAIT!!_

The spirit screamed. You froze, a shrill note of warning in her "voice". The door exploded inwards. Revealing a sneering, hard-shelled Blade; a Demon. Green skin, thick and almost impenetrable served it as its armor. The build of Demons varied from one to the next, the Demon in question was more slight than you, reptilian in its manifestation. The only thing that made you hesitate was the enormously large sword on its back, ready to draw in the midst of a battle.

How did she know?...and why did she warn you?

There was a high keening sound. The Demon released a cry and clapped its hands over it's ears, falling to its knees. You winced; the note was of an unusual pitch, Atonal and deafening. Not being a full Demon, the note did you no damage other than making your ears ring. The Demon on the ground was screaming and writhing, blood leaking out of his ears. You took the opportunity to draw your own sword. For a split second, you hesitated and the sword paused over the Demon's chest. The moment passed and you plunged the sword between the breastplates of the writhing Demon.

Well...that adds more red to the brickwork." The spirit sounded unsurprised by your actions. You sheathed your sword and continued to the door, trying to ignore the fact that the irritating gauntlets had just saved your life. If you had walked out of the courtyard at that moment, the explosion of the door would have surprised you...giving the Demon the upper hand.

_Wait! Please!_

You stopped and turn. Doubtful that another Demon would attack. There was a sigh.

_I apologise for invading your... privacy. It's just that... I've been abandoned for so long, I was hoping that you'd come to kill that sonofabitch Mundus._

You stepped closer, curious. What would a pair of gauntlets have against a Demon of the underworld?

_Then I found that you're a Sparda..._ the spirit sounded almost sheepish, _Though I can't figure out which one._

She knew who you are. She saved your life. She... could be useful later, especially if Mundus has sensitive ears, but is that all she can do? The gauntlets flared.

_Please, take me with you. I couldn't stand another thousand years here...not when I know you have the power to defeat Mundus! I can help! I have the power of fire!_ She started to sound more desperate, like a starving child begging for food.

You sighed. You never liked to travel with any companions... but what harm could a pair of gloves do? You picked up the gauntlets and wiped the flaked blood off the joints.

_You...you're taking me?_

"Yes."

One word. You never liked to talk much, preferring to let your actions speak for you. You put the gauntlets on, auras of fire flashed across the surface of the silver.

_My name is Ifrit._

"Dante."

No gasp of awe, fear or hate. Simply,

_How can I thank you?_

You couldn't resist a small smile,

"Just keep your flames to yourself. Okay?"

_Deal._

Though somehow...you never really did believe her.


	2. Manifest

You play death, I'll play life

Triple sixes to rise

Can't you see the patience I brought you?

The devilish games I taught you?

I am all you see

I am all that you want me to be

- Synthetic Generation (Deathstars)

* * *

Dante hated rain.

Picking himself up off the wet stone floor, he wondered why it was that creepy-crawlies chose dank, dark, run-down castles with no roof to live in. Honestly, if they had the time to try and kill him, then they obviously could find the time to find a good place to... haunt?

The large stone courtyard was pooled with rain; the patches where the ground had grown over cobblestones gave slightly under his feet – slightly spongy. It trembled under his feet as a massive – and strikingly ugly – tri-headed dog lashed out once more at the Demon Hunter.

"Oh spare me." Dante sneered and spun the hilt of Alastor in his hand, "After so long, I thought you might have actually improved, Cerberus. Guess I overestimated the size of your canine capabilities."

The giant dog snorted and rammed a massive paw into the ground, raking its claws through the cobblestones. They were uprooted like daisies and flew behind the hellish dog as if it were digging a hole. Shaking its central head, Cerberus grinned,

"Oh, I'm only getting warmed up, mortal."

Using its hind legs on the rear wall, it launched itself at Dante. Hearing the stone wall creaking under the force, Dante leapt to the side, rolled and dealt a powerful swipe across the cheek of Cerberus's left head; keeping the derelict and defunct fountain that rose from the center of the courtyard between himself and the dog. Cerberus swung around and howled in pain.

"Congratulations, Cerbs. I've decided to make you the guest of honor at my next "Good luck in your next life" party."

Momentarily blinded on its left side, Dante leapt onto Cerberus's left leg, then onto the central head, ramming his sword deep into the giant black dog and quickly jumping off. Cerberus was still for a moment. With his back to it, Dante sheathed Alastor,

"Lay down, Fido."

With a grunt, the dog crumpled to the floor, twitching. Dante turned back around, walking up to the collar of the dog - which was as wide as the mattress on his bed back home – and ripped something small and shiny from the black leather. Cerberus growled.

"Play dead." Dante said distractedly, still examining the blue orb from Cerberus's collar. Cerberus's heads suddenly fell to the side with a trio of crashes. Dante threw the orb into the air and caught it in the same hand, putting it in his pocket. He turned around and walked towards the far door, which he had been trying to reach before Cerberus had decided to play fetch with him.

At the doorway, he paused, smiling,

"Good Dog."

He was suddenly swept off his feet, however, by a huge paw. He hit the wall with a sickening thud. Apparently the goddamned dog can take one hell of a beating. As he shook the dust out of his hair and swept it off his shoulders he felt rather than heard a warm voice pulse through his mind.

_You're hopeless, you know that don't you? I __told__ you this wasn't a good idea...but no, you didn't-_

"I get the picture." Dante spat back. The demon arms were right; the fight was not going as planned. He slid his gauntlets onto his hands, taunting the massive black dog growling before him; "Okay Pound Puppy, it's time to put you down for good."

_About time…It feels so nice to be needed once in a while…_

There was a sharp burning pain that lanced through his fingers as he felt her power root itself in his arms. For the moment at least, he let the golden power leech into his vision and his mind sat back and let her handle this. He devil-triggered and sat back to enjoy the ride.

The power that called itself Ifrit pulsed once more, settling into her temporary home. Rooted in the Spardas powerful arms, she looked out at the demonic dog with an arrogant, yet contented stare. She felt the half-blood's pulse surround her as she entwined herself in his blue veins, sank into his crisp white bones and slide across his tanned skin with a thilled sigh.

The dog saw the change in the mortal – the contemptuous gaze, the burning hatred in his eyes… the crackling of flames that hissed and popped in the air around him. He saw the demonic power and shrank backwards.

"Heel boy…" Ifrit hissed through the Spardas mouth. With an inhuman-like leap into the air, she thundered down from the sky in a ball of superheated flame. With a spinning leap, the dog swept himself out of harms way. Ifrit lifted the Spardas right gauntlet from the ground. The impact on the sandstone cobbles had melted them into a glassy ripple. She shook the glass from the Spardas hand and it fell onto the ground with tiny tinkles.

"What trickery is this, mortal?" Cerberus's central head demanded, backing around the fountain once more. His ears were flat against his skull, fur slick with rain.

With sneer, Ifrit drew fire to her – pure heat from the earth, the air and the stones beneath their feet. Cerberus didn't notice the way the cloud of warm breath that he had breathed out was sucked towards the gauntlets. Within a fraction of a second, the heat suddenly changed – ignited at Ifrit's command and rocketed towards the dog with a loud thrum.

The two fireballs hit the dog, one after the other; on his shoulder and his neck – and sent the dog several meters backwards with the impact. He howled in pain as the rain fell on the freshly sizzling wounds, filling the air with the stench of cooked flesh.

With a sadistic grin Ifrit leapt over the fountain and with a thunderous kick, sent the dog flying into the wall of the castle with a loud crash. Flaring her flaming insectoid wings in the rain, she gazed down at the burnt and beaten dog.

Cerberus spat a tooth from his right head and panted through the trickling blood between his eyes, his left head blinked rain from his eyes.

"What are you?" He gurgled.

"Me?" Ifrit hissed from the Spardas mouth as she drew more heat to her, "I'm Hell…" Sweeping a hand to the heavens, she watched as Cerberus was burnt alive in waves of fire that swept from the ground.

"…and you have been burned." She whispered as the blackened husk of the demon dog fell to the ground and shattered into pieces of blackened, charred leather.


	3. Light in the Night

With a start, Dante jerked awake.

The flames that had danced before his eyes were swallowed by the shadows that lurked in the corners of his bedroom. Glancing quickly around for what had caused him to wake, he relaxed slowly – muscle by muscle - and lay back down. Rolling onto his left side he closed his eyes and breathed deeply the scent of his sweat-dampened pillow.

A flare of heat swept through the room again causing Dante to leap upright once more. This time he caught the receding golden light that shrank back down the hallway. Reaching for Force Edge from his dilapidated bedside table, he laid it on the bed beside him as he pulled on a pair of faded black jeans.

Rising, he put his back to the wall and tensed; ready to fight whatever was trying to draw his attention. He swung around the door frame, aware of every movement in his vision – the blinking of the clock on the stereo in his living room, the matching swing of the pendulum of his Grandmother Clock which rested on a shelf in the hallway. He used the gentle clicks of the clock to mask the faint sounds of his bare footfalls on the worn creamy carpet. The entire unit was eerily grey and still. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound… save for the old Grandmother Clock.

A suddenly flare of heat swept through the rooms. Dante dropped to the ground and rolled behind the navy blue couch in his living room. As fast as it had expanded, the flare shrank back and collapsed upon itself. He ducked around the couch in time to see the flare disappear into the kitchen.

Wide awake, Dante's mind clicked through possibilities. Portal? Enemy? Or Cars outside the kitchen window? The house was silent – it had been even when the intrusive flare had burst forth over the rooms. The light seemed to do nothing other than catch his attention – which almost ruled out the possibility of an enemy, unless he was being lured into an ambush. However given the size of the kitchen, he doubted that any more than two Marionettes could squeeze between the table and the benches… and two Marionettes didn't constitute an ambush.

More an irritation.

Portals were loud. The house was silent. That took care of that possibility… however it also ruled out the cars-outside-the-window explanation too.

So just what the fuck was going on?

He looked down at Force Edge in his clenched hands. Not his weapon of choice in the given circumstances – however Ifrit, Alastor, Ebony and Ivory were all on the kitchen table… where he'd dumped them after finishing the job that had involved the Cerberus incident earlier this evening.

On that thought, he frowned as he remembered Ifrits' ruthlessness with the demonic dog; roasting the damn thing alive? The crazed fire that had coursed through his veins had felt… malicious. Maybe that's why he'd left them on the kitchen table this evening? He usually had them within easy reach in his room… perhaps a bad idea not to have had them close to hand given the circumstances so far tonight.

He rolled and slid slowly up against the wall next to the opening to the kitchen, mulling over the possibility that perhaps someone was simply trying to rob him and either Ifrit or Alastor was alerting him to this fact.

Oh the possibilities.

Aside from the slow dripping of the tap, the kitchen was deathly silent. Dante sprang through the doorway and in a heartbeat had rolled behind the bench in the kitchen.

Silence.

He peered around the corner of the bench at the dining area, expecting to see either wooden puppets, swirling ectoplasm or one very pissed off guy in a balaclava to attack him.

Nothing. There was no-one there.

Slowly, Dante rose to his feet. The entire kitchen was silent. On the kitchen table, Alastor lay gleaming in the light that flooded through the window from the streetlights outside. Ifrits' gauntlets rested against the sword gently, almost protectively over Ebony and Ivory.

Growling in anger and a slight feeling of foolishness, Dante turned to twist the dripping tap off. Without warning, he felt the hairs on his neck rise as he did so. The flare burst over the room again and Dante spun, Force Edge flashing in the golden light yet meeting only air.

On the table Ifrit pulsed in a white aura; Dante realised with a start that the light had been coming from her all along. The flare didn't recede this time, pulsing warm waves through the winter air trapped in the room.

Dante frowned, squinting from the light and halting himself as he reached for the gauntlets. Ifrit had never acted this way before… so was touching the demon arms such a good idea? The heat the gauntlets pulsed rubbed alluringly against his skin, curling around his back and drawing him closer. Like hands gesturing him to approach, the gauntlets trembled slightly as he stepped closer to them.

How much did he trust the demons arms? He suddenly thought. The answer came to him instantly; Ifrit had saved his life countless times… so she had earned respect… but trust?

The flare shrank back once more before he had a chance to finish the thought. The cold of the room hit him with a chilling touch as he realised just how warm Ifrits' power had made the room. Reaching out, he closed a hand around the metal of the left gauntlet. They were always warm, whether or not he wore them, but the power inside the demon arms did nothing to respond to his touch.

Picking up the left gauntlet, Dante let a shiver run through him as the cold of the house started to seep into his bones. With a sigh, the Demon Hunter swept his weapons into his arms and plodded back through the house; focusing now on returning to his warm bed. He didn't notice the glass of the Grandmother Clock in the hallway frost with ice from the air in the house as he passed, nor the halting of the gentle clicks of it's pendulum as it was frozen into place.

With another deep sigh he let the weapons fall on the right side of his king-sized bed – he'd put them away tomorrow morning. Now shivering considerably, he threw his jeans onto the floor and slid into the cold bed. After a moment, he reached over and pulled Ifrit towards him, their warm metal surfaces welcomed by the cold skin of his arms.

Some great Demon Hunter, he thought to himself, can't handle a little cold. As he drifted off to sleep he subconsciously pulled the gauntlets against his broad chest. They hummed and a faint sigh could be heard…

"Soon…"


	4. Household Appliances

I've been very naughty... sorry for not updating :P

* * *

In the fading light of the afternoon, Dante was prone to brooding. This time it was over his flame-possessed demon arms. He drew his coat tighter around him, noticing that winter seemed to have descended earlier than normal this year. Either that or he had to get someone to look at the windows of this place for draughts. He started thinking once again over what had happened since he'd discovered Ifrit on Mallet Island a year ago.

Nothing out of the ordinary had happened when he'd discovered them on the way to destroy Mundus. The courtyard bore no warnings of a force that should not have been released like the many other demonic tombs he'd encountered. In fact they were startlingly similar to Alastor – both seemed to have forces that inhabited the weapons… though Alastor was somewhat less… talkative? Ifrit hadn't let him down. Ever. She'd done what he wanted her to do – kill the enemies standing in his way to Mundus, given him extra leverage when it came to dealing with all manner of creepy crawlies…

He sighed and stood up, wandering into the kitchen and flicking the switch on his dented chrome kettle. He lent against the kitchen, frowning in thought as he examined the gauntlets closer in his hands.

The power within them stirred like a cat from sleep.

_What is it this time? Death Scythe?_

"No. No fighting." He murmured, turning the left glove in his hands – looking for… anything. Writings? Engravings? Symbols?

… _checking so see if I'm really a female?_

He put the gauntlet down quickly and scowled. Smart arse. He noticed that the kettle still hadn't boiled yet. He flicked the switch once again and checked to see if it was plugged in. He poured the water into his cup, noticing that the water was barely warm. He tipped it into the stainless steel sink; the kettle must have busted.

_Need a hand?_

The gauntlets flared and the kettle suddenly shone red, the water bubbling and frothing inside it. Grinding his teeth in irritation, Dante waited for it to cool enough for him to touch it. Why was everything in this house so… crap and falling apart?

_You're welcome._

Ifrit's voice sounded peeved. He didn't care, he wasn't really in the business of being nice to inanimate objects… but yet, she had managed to keep him warm last night.

"Thankyou." He sighed. The demon arms pulsed happily,

_Any time_.

Holding a cup of coffee in his hand and Ifrits' gauntlets in the other, he sat back down on the couch. The incident with Cerberus had changed something. Between the time he'd discovered the gauntlets and then was fine – it wasn't even worth mentioning… but there had definitely been something different about her when he'd allowed her to fight the tri-headed dog. He mulled over the possibilities; perhaps she'd had a grudge against the dog? He was pretty sure that at some point in time the power that resided in the gauntlets had had some physical manifestation or other… so maybe she'd fought him and lost?

Or maybe she was suffering from the most common problems demons faced – even he struggled with it every day; the joy creatures of the underworld seemed to get from death. Perhaps she was beginning to enjoy her job too much? Even he would admit to himself that there was something satisfying about plunging Alastor through a living, breathing being – provided that it was a living, breathing being that was trying to kill him.

"What were you doing last night?" He asked, suddenly aware of the emptiness of the house.

_Who? Me?_

"Yes."

Ifrit seemed surprised that he was talking to her directly. He'd never actually done it before. He waited for the power in the demon arms to respond.

_What do you mean?_

He sighed; already thin patience running thinner,

"The light show."

_I'm sorry… I don't know what you're talking about_.

Dante frowned, picking up a gauntlet again.

"You don't remember?"

_Remember what? What lights? Were you attacked?_ Her voice suddenly grew darker.

"No… never mind." He set it back down on the couch. He didn't get confused… but this was he closest he'd come to it. Did he believe her? Or was she hiding something?

His thoughts were interrupted by the tinkle of a bell in Devil Never Cry. Getting to his feet, he slid Alastor into a scabbard on his back. Duty called. The carpeted floor changed to wooden floorboards at the start of the hallway from his house into Devil Never Cry.

In the shop-front he was faced with a familiar tall, thin Greek man. He stood in the shadow of the large blind on the window that faced the sunset. At Dantes approaching footsteps his head had jerked in the direction of the sound and his eyes had flashed, reflecting the light of the lamp in Dantes' kitchen down the hallway.

"Cassius" Dante sat in his chair and set both booted feet on the desk, still holding his coffee, "To what do I owe the displeasure? Bit early for you isn't it?"

The vampire grimaced and threw something at the Demon Hunter. Catching it in one hand, Dante opened his palm to reveal a wad of $100 notes. He raised an eyebrow at the dark-haired man. He had always seemed impeccably dressed, as if for his own funeral… but it was then that Dante noticed his suit was dirty, torn and ruffled.

"My coven," The vampire lisped slightly, "We need your help."

* * *

Three Hellhounds and $2000 later, Dante was back at home. He shed his clothes in the bathroom to stop the half-decayed blood from the Hellhounds from staining the carpet. They'd been doing what most other dogs do – eating dead bodies… it's just that the dead bodies happened to be _un_dead bodies. Alastor had taken care of the three of them and once again the town vampires were free to rest in peace during the daylight hours.

As miniscule as this job was, Dante was tired. Almost exhausted, in fact. He put it down to not enough sleep last night from Ifrits little light show. Hopefully there wouldn't be another one tonight. He was cold and tired.

He let the hot water run for a while, then stepped into the shower. With a gasp he suddenly leapt out again; the water was freezing cold!

"Jesus Christ…" He growled. Now the hot water had gone too?

There was no way he was going outside at this hour to check the tank… not when he had an easier fix. He wrapped a towel around himself and found Ifrit lying on the couch where he left her. The demon arms flared when he approached.

_Well hello…_

"Cut the crap." He picked the gauntlets up, "I want a hot shower."

_I want a hot shower… please._

"I want a hot shower… or else." He growled and set them down on the bathroom sink. They sighed,

_Honestly… where would you be without me?_

"Outside..." He muttered as they pulsed and steam started to rise from the once cold stream of water falling in the shower. He paused and looked back at the gauntlets, pulsing innocently on the sink.

_Don't worry about me,_ Ifrit chirped, _I promise I'll close my eyes_.

Quickly stepping into the shower, Dante sighed as the water cascaded over his shoulders. Charged with the demon arms power, the water thrummed as it slid down his skin. Pulsing warmth soaked into him for the first time all day, like standing in the sunshine in the middle of summer… like the flare of light last night.

The same pull wrapped itself around him slowly, seeping into his bones with a silky sigh. The same comforting warmth… warmth he didn't want to leave…

With a startled jerk he stumbled against the side of the shower. Instantly the water was freezing cold again and he sprang to turn the taps off and reached for his towel.

_What's wrong? Too hot? _Ifrit asked.

Dante didn't answer. He grabbed his towel and disappeared into his bedroom, leaving the demon arms lying on the bathroom sink.

_Dante?_


	5. Awakenings

Sorry for the long time updating! This is for all the people who fav'ed my story :) Love you longtime!

* * *

Deep in a blackened and decaying sewer, Pax stirred his huge monstrous head. Visions of flame and lightning interrupting his normally peaceful sleep. A sleek scaled figure with flaming red hair… her snow-haired, dark-featured and pale consort, spitting lightning that was blinding.

With a snarl his eyes snapped open, teeth bared. The Hellgate Guardian sniffed the air, shifting his snake-like tail from the mountains of slime that had accumulated over the years. It hit the sides of the stone tunnel with wet slaps, like wet meat.

Pax growled, feeling the familiar burn of the demon's power ebbing and flowing against his own like a homing beacon. She was here in the mortal realm…

"… Artemissssssssss…" He hissed and snapped his jaws in anticipation of the hunt; this was the moment he'd been waiting over 5000 years for - this time there would be no escape for the little demon.

Rising to his feet, the Guardian shook the slime and effluent from his lizard-like skin. Rats and cockroaches scattered and ran hither and thither. The scaled Guardian then slinked – half snake, half monkey – through the tunnel, ignoring the squelch of sewerage beneath his feet.

With a sudden roar he leapt forward, gathering speed as he bounded through the tunnel until it became a dark blur. His heavy footfalls echoed like a racing heartbeat, his maddened green eyes gazing at the faint glow of a streetlight through the crack between a road covering and the tunnel as it came closer and closer...

* * *

Dante sat on the end of his crumpled bed, in jeans and shirtless with drops of water still clinging to his back. He shivered for a moment in the cold of the apartment, his breath creating small clouds of vapor.

_Dante?_ He heard Ifrit's soft voice intrude on his thoughts. He ignored it.

Something was happening. To him. To his home. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. First Ifrit suddenly starts putting on light shows, then the kettle stops working, then the hot water system stops working, Devil Never Cry itself seemed to be like a fridge… not to mention the odd feeling he got whenever Ifrit focused her power on him – a pull, almost a tug. To where – or what, he didn't know but it was starting to get him more than a little bit suspicious of his newest weapons.

He resisted the urge to sigh and rubbed a towel through his platinum hair. He pulled on his red leather jacket, goosebumps prickling over his skin at the touch of the cold leather.

This was getting ridiculous. How could one pair of gauntlets be responsible for the behaviour of hot water, gas and electricity?

* * *

In the cold bathroom, Ifrit lay forlornly on the sink.

The flaming gauntlets were dimly aware of the half-blood moving around in the adjoining room. The creak of springs and the ruffle of bed sheets confirmed to her that he had decided to let her spend the night away from his warmth – alone.

Well not really alone.

_Well that went splendid didn't it?_ The right hand said savagely, suddenly pulsing.

_You had a better idea? _The left spat and hissed – gold light rising and falling with her words.

_Take what we want and leave._ Once again, the gauntlet started to draw the warmth from the air, summoning it to her. The entity known as Ifrit, split into the two hands of the gauntlet battled within herself as the two hands bickered.

_You'll kill him!_ Her left protested.

_Who cares! Their breed is a common breed,_ Her right sneered.

_He was the one who freed us!_

_Fine! _The right snarled, _One of us will do it, whilst the other stays – keep your precious half-breed alive!_

_But-_

_What difference does one make? _The right interrupted. The left was silent. _My point precisely. We must release Him before the Gatekeeper discovers us!_

_You think he has detected our presence?_ The left quivered slightly.

_Undoubtedly. I can almost smell the rotten bastard's stench already._

There was a moment of silence then Ifrit had reached a decision. She must finish what she had begun.

Once again the gauntlets pulsed a warm gold glow, trying for a second time what they had attempted two nights ago. This time the light held and distorted, twisting and expanding slowly. The right gauntlet started to warp and twist until a molten metal blob fell from the cold sink onto the floor with a muted wet slap.

The molten metal stretched and twisted, bubbling and popping – steam rising from its golden surface until it started to resemble the figure of a human. Two slender legs split and shifted on the white bathroom tiles, gently curved hips, full chest and narrow shoulders. A delicate gold-tanned hand grasped onto the side of the sink and pulled the rest of the body from the floor.

Hands on the sink and swaying slightly as it adjusted to its new form, the Demon-arm caught sight of its sister lying beside its right hand. It smiled slowly and looked into the mirror.

It had forgotten what it had once looked like. Wild red hair tumbled around its shoulders, framing an angular and severe face. High cheekbones and almond-shaped deep brown eyes made it look almost devilish, whilst its full lips framed its pure white teeth, overgrown canines glinting in the faint light of the moon through the bathroom window.

"Oh yes…" She breathed, her breath clouding the mirror slightly, "I'm going to enjoy this."


End file.
